


A Tale of Two Kisses

by bob2ff



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life, light humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1906860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bob2ff/pseuds/bob2ff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the kiss comes before the revelation. Kuroko: a tale of two kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale of Two Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Written for BPS Challenge 78 (Revelations).

**_First Kiss: Consilium (Latin for: Plan, or Purpose)_**  

The sky had been grey, cloudy, a little gloomy. In retrospect, Kuroko thought it was the _worst_ day to do what he did. But he hadn’t been able to help himself. And as if there was such thing as _planning_ , anyway. But then again, he was dealing with Akashi Seijurou. Planning _should_  have been at the top of his mind. 

As it were, Kuroko was currently reading B-ball Monthly in whatever dim light the sky provided, as he waited for Akashi-kun.  Who was _still_ inside the grocery store, probably _still_ trying to decide on the myriad of tofu soup flavours that awaited him.

Kuroko had not known what he had accidentally gotten himself into when he had nonchalantly pointed out the existence of instant tofu soup packets. Akashi-kun, once he had discovered the wonders of commercialized instant soup and the unlimited varieties of flavours it provided beyond hand-crafted tofu soup, had gone wild. 

Or as wild as Akashi-kun could be, which is to say he contemplated the assorted packets displayed in the shelve with the grave dignity of of contemplating a devastating shogi strategy. 

“Tetsuya. I mean, Kuroko-kun.” Akashi-kun still stumbled over the right way to call him, after the Winter Cup. Kuroko did not mind. Like a see-saw, the balancing act was sometimes awkward and sometimes odd. But it reminded Kuroko that Akashi-kun was not perfect. It reminded him that even the most monstrous of them all was human, in the end. “I apologize for keeping you waiting.” 

Kuroko folded the magazine shut, and looked up at the sky meditatively. Grey rainclouds were starting to clump together. It was almost certainly going to rain in the next one minute. “It is no trouble, Akashi-kun.” 

He turned and raised his eyebrows at the bulging plastic bag in Akashi’s hands. There must have been twenty different packets in there.

“I could not decide,” Akashi said, without a trace of apology. Kuroko absently wondered about the tendency of geniuses to stretch the limit in whatever they loved in. Basketball, tofu soup, winning. It was all the same to those privileged enough to truly know what they loved. 

“It is going to rain,” Kuroko said. “I should head home.” He carefully kept all traces of reluctance out of his voice.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Kuroko-kun,” Akashi held a hand out. Like Akashi-kun himself, it was a graceful action. Kuroko took it. The warmth that enveloped his hand, however, was interrupted by a single, cold, droplet of rain that fell on it. Then another.

More started falling. Kuroko sighed. He had not planned for this, of course. Now he was going to be soaking when he got back.

But Akashi produced an umbrella from his school bag solemnly. Always prepared, and always planning, that was Akashi-kun.

“It would not be wise to fall sick when you still have regular training,” Akashi-kun’s chide was gentle, and sent a jolt of affection straight through Kuroko’s chest.

“I thought Akashi-kun would want to sabotage your opponents whenever you get the chance,” Kuroko let a small smile that rise as he said that. Even after everything, he could not help baiting, teasing, who Akashi-kun had used to be. Who Akashi-kun still sometimes was.

“I have no need to worry about my opponents,” Akashi’s face was calm as always, to Kuroko’s disappointment. Akashi-kun always had been the most difficult of his friends to get a reaction out of. Something about his confidence made him almost impossible to tease.

Then he turned to Kuroko, the corners of his lips quirking up, ever so slightly. “I do, however, have a need to worry about my friends.” Kuroko had missed seeing that smile so much, he could not help himself.

His actions felt almost out of his control as he leaned in and pressed his lips onto Akashi’s.

Akashi-kun’s lips felt soft and perfect, as Kuroko should have anticipated. It was Akashi-kun, after all. Kuroko could smell some type of cologne. Expensive, undoubtedly. And with his eyes closed, Kuroko could better hear Akashi-kun’s breathing. Calm, even, composed. In stark contrast to the hammering in Kuroko’s chest.

As Kuroko started moving his lips against Akashi-kun’s, and felt him react and move against him in turn, a sensation burst in his chest like happiness, wonderful and right. 

But then Kuroko started worrying about himself. His lips were nothing special. Against Akashi-kun’s own response, he thought his was awkward, clumsy, and altogether unpoised. He wondered if Akashi-kun thought him a wholly inadequate kisser.

And Kuroko was giving him such a plain, non-special kiss. Nothing to remember him by. It was just the way Kuroko always had been. He stepped back, and stared intently at the pavement. The puddles, rapidly forming, and the little circles the raindrops made as they landed on them.

“I’m sorry. I did not plan this to happen,” the apology, and explanation, slipped out of Kuroko. He hoped he had not ruined everything.

“It’s perfectly alright.” Akashi’s smile then was a secret, private one. A subtle revelation, Kuroko felt, meant just for him. At that moment, Kuroko was comforted, and reassured, all at once. “I’ll text you again, Kuroko-kun.” 

It was only after he had gotten back that Kuroko had another revelation. Akashi-kun had probably planned everything that had happened. It was, after all, Akashi-kun.

 ** _Second Kiss: Amicus Animae (Latin for: Friend of the soul)_**  

It was precisely two weeks after the Winter Cup Finals that Kuroko made a momentous decision. 

“Kagami-kun.” Kuroko watched with satisfaction as Kagami jumped from where he had been sprawled lazily over his desk, and swore as the action made his shin hit the table leg. It was nice to know that even after everything they had gone through, he would always have the ability to terrify his best friend into hurting himself.

“I want to learn how to be a better one-on-one player.” And that he would always have the ability to make his best friend pull the most amusing of facial expressions, whether in dumbfoundedness or befuddlement. 

“What, are you trying to leave me behind or something?” Kagami-kun always thought he was funnier than he actually was. There was nothing funny about one’s best friend leaving the other behind.

But Kuroko knew Kagami-kun was more emotionally dense than even a sea mollusc, so he let it slide. And resigned himself to a jab towards Kagami-kun’s stomach as he started mussing Kuroko’s hair, along with his joke.

When they were next standing opposite one another on the basketball court, however, Kuroko could not help staring, frozen, at Kagami.

He knew his light’s movements so well, he could read, and respond to them, almost unconsciously. Kagami would move, and Kuroko would be compelled to react. More than a shadow, it was like Kuroko needed, and depended on, Kagami to play as well as he did, on the court.

Kuroko realized, then, that he would never be a one-on-one player. He was tethered to Kagami-kun, and the link was so strong he thought his basketball would die if they were ever broken apart. Kagami-kun would be okay. He was free.

But Kuroko wasn’t. His basketball life entirely depended upon Kagami-kun. It didn’t matter about the Phantom Shots or the Misdirection Overflows. He would never find basketball the way he did with Kagami-kun. Kuroko’s basketball drew its life, and strength, from Kagami-kun. 

“Oi, Kuroko!” Kuroko blinked, and Kagami’s face appeared right in front of his. Kuroko’s breathing was fast, and shallow. The weight of the realization was pressing too heavily on his chest. “I told you to block me, but you just stood there like a dumbass while I dunked!” 

Then Kagami grinned, and Kuroko recognized his best friend again, amidst the overbearing presence of the one whose basketball he depended on. “It was an _awesome_ dunk too, don’t you think?”

Kuroko’s breathing eased. But the weight was still there. It sank into Kuroko’s chest, laden with the what could never bes and what could have beens of the love for a game he could never be singularly ‘the best’ at. 

“Kagami-kun,” Kuroko looked straight into Kagami’s eyes. “Do you think I could be a great one-on-one player?” 

Observing Kagami-kun carefully, Kuroko noticed the immediate shift in his facial muscles. Kagami-kun was remarkably expressive. His eyes went to the side, and he started biting his lip. Kuroko opened his mouth, to say all that he wanted. To demand Kagami-kun not to try to be sensitive when he clearly wasn’t good at it, and to ask for the truth. But Kagami’s gaze snapped onto his, locking Kuroko’s gaze onto his own, stopping the words emerging from his throat. 

“What does it matter?” Kagami glared. “You’re a _great_ partner. There’s no one else I would rather play with.”

Kuroko felt his lips twitch despite himself. Kagami-kun was simple, to the end. He didn’t seem to understand that things were _never_ that simple. Eventually, Kagami-kun would leave Kuroko behind. 

But until things got complicated, perhaps Kuroko could enjoy what they had.

Or what they could be, perhaps, depending on how Kagami-kun responded, right at this moment. He stretched out a hand, and wrapped it around Kagami’s neck. Pulling Kagami’s head down towards him, and he pressed his lips onto Kagami’s.

Kuroko thought he would disappear into an oblivion of embarrassment if Kagami were to draw back and sputter red-faced, the way he had seen him do whenever Alex-san kissed him like this. So his heart pounded in his ears, even if, pressed against Kagami, he could feel him breathing, strong and measured.

Kuroko tentatively touched Kagami’s tongue with his own, and felt joy bloom, quietly yet overwhelmingly, in his chest, as he felt Kagami respond. The thrill lit his heart like a jolt of electricity as he felt Kagami’s tongue trace his own lips, a little clumsier but just as gentle as his own. He could hear his own breathing, and Kagami’s, even as his heart continued its unabating ramming of his ribcage.

When Kuroko drew back, he could not help the smile that spread across his face. It was beyond his control. And he observed Kagami critically, as the flush spread slowly, and steadily, from somewhere below his neck, all the way up to his ears. Kagami’s hand, slowly coming up to cover his face.

Kagami-kun was always loud, but this time, Kuroko was glad that he seemed too overwhelmed, and speechless, to say anything. Instead, they looked at each other, Kuroko smiling widely, Kagami peering at Kuroko tentatively through his fingers on his face.

The revelation was quiet, understated, washing over Kuroko like a gentle breeze. He thought he would be perfectly okay, in the end, even if Kagami-kun eventually left him behind in basketball.

That was for another time, to think and to consider. After all, at least right now, not many had the chance to play with their basketball soulmate.

**Author's Note:**

> This just came out through an exercise in writing kiss scenes, so...hope you like it. Comments are always lovely! =)


End file.
